


Little Green Lies

by theramblinrose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M, I tried to deliver, Post Season 10, caryl fanfiction, you asked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinrose/pseuds/theramblinrose
Summary: Caryl, ZA.  Post 10.  Feelings were stupid sometimes, and they could lead people to do and say things they never would if they were thinking clearly.  Daryl just wanted Carol to understand his feelings—all of them.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

AN: This is a three part (maybe four, the last piece is in construction at the moment) short story inspired by a prompt that was dropped off with me by a very dear friend (which I will not name unless she wishes to be named). 

I am almost certain this is not quite what she had in mind, but this is what her request led my mind to create.

I am taking great liberties with everything because I can.

Carol and past relationships are discussed, though not in any great detail, but it’s necessary for this fic. Connie is mentioned. Leah is discussed as well. 

This is a very Caryl short story, however, and I don’t know how to explain that without spoiling, it so I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, and I’ll do my best not to let you down! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think (and if I should even bother spending the rest of this day finishing this up…) 

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She would be there waiting on him. They were going to—what exactly were they going to do? 

Start a new life.

It sounded strange, even in Daryl’s head. It sounded like a foreign concept. Every time they started anything, it seemed to simply get bulldozed by one thing or another. 

But they were going to start a new life, with whatever life they had left. The only damn thing they had to do was manage to get it started before something stopped them or got in their way…again.

The bike had been swapped out for the wagon. Though Daryl loved the bike, the reality of it was that the bike was too much upkeep, especially when they were striking out on their own. Besides that, Dog wouldn’t fare well having to run alongside the bike the whole way. The truck-turned-wagon was, really, the best mode of transportation that they could hope for, even though the horses could be, at times, an added complication. 

The horses, though, would serve them in other ways when they found somewhere to call home. 

They said they were headed for New Mexico, but that was mostly just a product of their teasing. Really, Daryl assumed they would go somewhere a bit greener—somewhere where the living was easier to scratch out of the dirt.

Daryl reached Alexandria with the best kind of stomach ache he’d had in a long time. It was a feeling of hope and anticipation for something good—something he’d rarely felt in his life. He waited for the gates to open, revealing the community to him. The whole damn place looked cleaner and brighter than he’d ever seen it before. The sun was starting to look different. The air was starting to smell different. 

Maybe the idea of starting a life didn’t sound so strange after all. 

Maybe their shared daydreams and their conversations about the possibilities in their future weren’t so far-fetched as Daryl might have thought when his negativity was holding onto him a bit too hard.

Daryl flicked the reins and clicked his tongue at the pair of large horses that would help them start this life together. He drove the wagon into Alexandria and steered it over to a place, out of the way, where he would wait for her.

He saw Dog first—bounding along happily as though he knew what was happening. She would be close behind. Dog wouldn’t leave her—not when Daryl had left them together and given Dog the order to stay with her. Besides that, Dog loved her. He was a pretty smart animal.

Daryl hopped down off the wagon, steeled himself for Dog to crash into him, and generously rubbed the animal’s face in his hands and patted his back with the satisfying thumps that made Dog wiggle his whole ass in happy response.

When Daryl looked up, he saw Carol coming toward him, smiling. It was a genuine smile and those kinds of smiles always looked good on her—he’d only seen them, really, very recently. They’d only really started after he’d admitted his feelings to her and told her that, despite the fact he’d kept silent about it for far too long, he loved her—and he loved her even more than he really had words to say. He felt his own mouth respond in kind. He couldn’t have helped it if he’d tried.

The smile fell quickly, though, as his eyes settled on the man walking next to her, carrying a bag for her. 

Ezekiel. Her ex-husband. 

The King, as he pretended to be, always seemed to pop up when Daryl didn’t want to see his face, and every time Daryl saw him, his stomach ached in the worst sort of way—not at all like the feeling he’d had approaching Alexandria—and he felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck tense. 

This man had married Carol when Daryl had already loved her. Granted, Daryl hadn’t exactly let her know that he loved her, and he hadn’t exactly made any indication that he would like to marry her himself, but he still resented the fact that Ezekiel had moved in there and taken action while he’d still been figuring out if he should and, if he did dare to do it, how he might go about telling her such a thing.

This man had had a child with Carol—and raised him for years. Granted, they’d adopted their son and they’d tragically lost their son—and Daryl knew that Carol would spend the rest of her life trying to overcome the many losses she seemed to keep stacking up. Daryl knew he ought not to feel jealous of that, but his feelings didn’t know what was socially acceptable. Feelings were stupid to such things—blind, and deaf, and unaware. In his imaginings, it was he who had a kid with Carol—and he’d admitted as much to her when they’d daydreamed and talked about what they might hope for in a perfect world. It was Daryl who had that whole life with her and, in his imagination, somehow, he’d never let it end in the tragedy that she seemed to know so well.

This man had touched Carol. He’d held her. He’d slept with her, in every way imaginable, and he’d woken up beside her in the morning—and that burned in Daryl’s gut and in his veins like he’d somehow found a way to drink and digest lava.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Daryl grumbled under his breath. Dog heard him, but nobody else had. Dog looked at him, ears perked up, and then relaxed when Daryl patted his head affectionately and straightened up from petting him.

Be polite, he reminded himself. Get her bag in the back of the wagon. Say goodbye. They were out. They were leaving. And there was no forwarding address to leave for a surprise damned visit from the King.

Daryl took Carol’s bag first, since she reached him first. She was still smiling, but something in his expression must have concerned her. Her brows were furrowed in question. He tried to lighten his expression.

“Gimme that,” he said, taking the bag that was thrown over her shoulder. He placed it into the back of the wagon and Dog circled around to rub against her and request her affection. 

“For the trip,” Ezekiel said, approaching Daryl and offering the bag he was carrying.

“Didn’t know you had so much stuff,” Daryl said, directing his words to Carol and not at all to Ezekiel. 

“They’re provisions,” Ezekiel said. His hand went to Carol’s back and the hair on the back of Daryl’s neck bristled. “To make the trip easier.”

“We got plenty,” Daryl said. “I been stockin’ up.”

“Thank you,” Carol said, after casting a bit of a confused look in Daryl’s direction. “I’m sure that—every little bit is going to help.” 

Ezekiel turned Carol’s body. For a moment, Daryl thought he might kiss her and he thought, very seriously, about how everyone would react if he simply broke the man’s nose for such a gesture. He didn’t have to consider it too much, though, because Ezekiel didn’t kiss her. He held her at arm’s length for a moment and looked at her like he was committing her to memory.

Daryl was ready for memory to be all the hell Ezekiel had left of Carol.

“You will come back to visit—after you’ve found whatever you’re looking for?” Ezekiel asked.

“Point of findin’ it’s keepin’ it,” Daryl said, ushering Dog into the back of the wagon.

Their goodbyes had been said a few times over. They’d decided to say them in advance to avoid any kind of emotional moments to taint their feelings as they set off. Now Ezekiel was elbowing his way into things and wrecking those plans. Already that happy and hopeful feeling that Daryl had felt, upon entering Alexandria, was starting to feel heavy and brooding. 

“We might be back,” Carol said, hesitating a little in her words.

“Gotta go,” Daryl said. “Don’t wanna lose the light and we got a ways to go to get the rest of our stuff.” 

Carol glanced at him, and turned back to Ezekiel. She gave him a smile and said “goodbye” nonchalantly. Daryl could give her that—she didn’t make a big show of things, and it was clear, when Ezekiel pulled her into a hug, that it was him who was really initiating and prolonging that contact. Still, it bubbled and boiled inside of Daryl until he felt like a child who wanted to hit something or kick it—he wanted to get the frustration out somehow. It didn’t even help to think that they’d soon be leaving the man behind.

Instead of hitting, or kicking, or even screaming at Ezekiel to leave her the fuck alone, Daryl repeated his warning that they didn’t want to lose the light, and he reached out a hand in Carol’s direction as he stood by her side of the wagon.

She let go of Ezekiel and came to him, and Daryl helped her onto the wagon. She could have climbed up on her own, but Daryl felt like it was important to help her. He felt like it was important for Ezekiel to see him help her. He was sure the man had always thought he was some kind of in-bred yokel that lacked any idea of how the hell to act with any manners—and he probably figured that Daryl lacked all the manners that Carol deserved.

Just the thought of it pissed Daryl off more.

They were probably half a mile away from Alexandria before the cloud that had settled in Daryl’s mind started to lift enough for him to feel like he could even take in his surroundings again as anything nicer than something set to suffocate him.

Carol rode beside him in silence, perhaps sensing his feelings.

“The horses are beautiful,” Carol said. “Do they have names?” 

Daryl had gone to pick the horses up from a new community that had formed out of people who had left Alexandria, people who had come from a few neighboring communities, and a few newcomers. They had a pretty nice collection of horses and, thanks to some of the people in Alexandria and the fact that a few of their people were pretty damn handy, they were making decent wagons as well.

“Cinnamon and Duke,” Daryl said.

“A boy and a girl?” Carol asked. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Part of the deal,” Daryl said. “Potential foals.” 

“A—farm somewhere,” Carol mused. “Breeding foals. Raising them. A whole new life.”

“Yeah, well—that was the idea,” Daryl said. His irritation still prickled within him. It was all the irritation he’d felt for a long time. Though he was aware that most of what he was feeling was his own fault—after all, he’d dragged his feet long enough to say what he meant—he still felt the way he felt, and part of him was irritated that she didn’t feel that way. She didn’t feel his frustration and the tinge of anger that his frustration caused. “Unless you changed your mind. Wanna go back ‘cause you—left somethin’ behind you just don’t wanna be without.” 

Carol frowned at him. 

“You know I brought everything with me,” Carol said. “You know there’s nothing left for me at Alexandria. I would’ve left a long time ago if it weren’t for you.” 

The truth of the words settled like a warm stone in Daryl’s belly, but it didn’t calm what had already started there. He hummed at her, but didn’t say anything else.

“Is this—about Ezekiel?” Carol asked. “Daryl—he just saw me and offered to carry the bag.” 

“I don’t care about Ezekiel,” Daryl lied.

“Daryl—I know that…it’s a tender spot for you,” Carol said. “With him being my husband, but…I’ve told you that’s over. I’ve told you that…if I had known? If I had thought you had any interest in something, with me, at all…Daryl…”

“Don’t need to hear it again,” Daryl said dismissively. The fact of the matter was that he liked hearing it. He liked hearing it enough that he regularly needled her into reassuring him that her love for Ed was dead long before he was, that she’d never loved Tobin, and that she’d never really loved Ezekiel—not like that. She didn’t love anyone the way she loved Daryl. He liked hearing it, and he would like to hear it again, but he was in a mood that made him want to dismiss her even though the thought of dismissing her made him want to hit himself. 

The part of him that sometimes made him feel like he was barely older than the snotty-nosed kid that had run, scabby-kneed and scrawny as hell, at Merle’s heels as he did just about anything, made Daryl feel like it wasn’t fair. She didn’t have to feel like he felt. She could just safely sit and assume she’d never have to feel like he felt. 

She didn’t have to know what it felt like to feel—well, he hesitated to admit that it was insecurity and jealousy, but he knew that it was.

Chewing on his lip, and chewing on whether or not he really wanted to say the words that were rolling around in his mind, Daryl worked the reins in his hands. He took a few deep breaths—starting and stopping himself—before he committed to speaking. He only committed to it when Carol pressed him.

“Is something wrong, Daryl?” Carol asked. “Something—you want to talk about?” 

“Actually—there is,” Daryl said. “Maybe you don’t know everything about me.”

“I’m sure I don’t…”

“You ain’t the only one that’s…had other people in your life.”

“Connie?” Carol asked. 

Daryl thought he heard a slight change in her voice. She’d asked him several times about Connie. He’d always told her that they’d only been friends. It hadn’t been like that. He’d never explained to Carol, though, why it could never be like that with Connie. Of course, it wasn’t until the past few months that he’d actually told Carol how stupidly in love with her he really was. How the hell could anything have ever been like that when he’d been head over heels for Carol for as long as he could remember and he hadn’t even had the balls to say it? 

The change in her voice made Daryl wonder if she knew, maybe, a little of what it was to feel jealousy like he felt it—burning in her gut.

He wasn’t even sure what led him to say everything else that he spilled out to her next. It simply seemed to pour out of him, and he let it go, listening to his own story as her ears heard it.

“Yeah,” he said. “But—truth is? There’s someone else. Figured—you oughta know. There’s a good damn chance that…she’s waitin’ at the house. Come to tell me goodbye or…you know…try to talk me outta…all this.”


	2. Chapter 2

AN: It’s going to be four parts. I know this because I’m working on the fourth part.

At any rate, that’s what it takes to make it what I want it to be, so that’s what it’ll be. Just a friendly reminder that this is a Caryl story (I super promise that) and I’m a happy ending whore. 

My thanks to those of you that are giving it a chance, and I am really looking forward to your reaction to the rest! I hope you enjoy! 

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Carol’s stomach knotted, but she sat silently and listened to words that she couldn’t even believe that she was hearing.

All this time, when Daryl hadn’t been around—when he’d disappeared for pockets of time to do whatever it was that he was doing—it turned out that he had someone else. He’d found someone else. Her name, he said, was Leah. She came from another small group—one that didn’t interact with any of their established communities. She was, primarily, a survivalist. He’d met her in the woods, hunting.

It had just been one of those things. Something instant. 

Carol hadn’t been to this house—the house he’d found and set up months ago. He’d been stocking it with things. When he’d first brought the whole thing up to Carol, he’d said that his intention was to stock and store supplies. He wanted somewhere to keep it so that greedy hands couldn’t get to it. He wanted somewhere to go when the walls of Alexandria were closing in on him. 

He wanted them to have somewhere to go, at least for their first night, when they left to set off for a new life—somewhere else—together.

That’s what he’d told her, but now he was telling her that it had been a lie. At least, some of it had been a lie. At least—maybe if not a lie—maybe it had been an omission of truth.

He must have spent at least some of his time, when he’d been at this house, not wrapped up in thoughts about Carol and their future together, like he’d told her he’d been the whole time he’d been out here, but, instead, indulging in a relationship with Leah—enjoying her company.

Carol had to believe him because he tripped over his own story and his own words a thousand times. He was uncomfortable, clearly, and almost verging on the edge of something like mania. He was almost babbling—vomiting out information—and Carol imagined his discomfort came from the fact that he hadn’t meant to lie to her.

Or, maybe, it came from the fact that he was having second thoughts.

Maybe he wasn’t sure that, when they got to the house and Leah came to ask him to stay, he wouldn’t choose to stay.

Carol couldn’t blame him if he did.

From what he told her; Leah was beautiful. 

She had blue eyes—the bluest eyes. The most beautiful blue eyes that Daryl had ever seen. They looked like sapphires, or like the sky.

She had long hair. Soft and beautiful. And even though her hair was just hair—and she might decide, at any moment, that it wasn’t too practical, because Leah was immensely practical, and she might decide to cut it all off or something like that—Daryl loved it. He loved everything about it. He loved stroking it when he hugged her and held her head close to him. He loved daydreaming of running his fingers through it. He could entertain himself just by imagining tightening it around his fingers and feeling it slip and slide against his skin.

What she was hearing was too much. What she was hearing made her heart feel like it was ripping at the seams and, in a lot of ways, she doubted her poor, ragged heart had too much left holding it together to allow it to keep ripping forever. 

Carol’s breath had become shallow all on its own. Fast and shallow, and she focused on making the breaths last longer. She focused on holding them, just long enough, so that Daryl wouldn’t notice. He was talking to her. He was telling her about his feelings. She wanted to respect that. She wanted to give him the time and the space to talk about what he needed to talk about. She wanted to hear him.

He deserved that. He deserved for her to hear him. He had heard her when she’d talked about Ezekiel. He’d heard her when she told him that Ezekiel had wanted to marry her. He’d told her that he wished her happiness and, even though she knew he was a little jealous of Ezekiel, especially since he’d admitted that he had actually wanted a relationship with her back when she—feeling that there was really nothing better for her and that she didn’t want to be alone—had accepted Ezekiel’s ring. Daryl had never really been too harsh with her about her past relationships, even though they must have caused him some discomfort.

Carol was feeling a great deal of discomfort.

Her throat hurt. Her stomach ached. Her chest was tight.

But she listened.

Leah was beautiful. And sexy. And beyond that, to make her even more perfect, Leah was a survivor. She’d practically made it through this world on her own. And the world before all this had been a real bitch for her, too, but that’s what made her as strong as she was. She could face down just about anything and come out on the other side. She was strong as shit—made for this world.

She was good with just about any weapon. She had given up guns when bullets were too damn much trouble. She could handle a bow and arrow, though, and treated her blades like an extension of herself. If you were going into a fight, there weren’t too many people you’d rather have beside you. You could just about guarantee that she would make it out of anything. Daryl had serious respect for her abilities.

Of course, she had learned all of that because she was smart—the smartest person he knew. He was saying that, too, as someone who knew a lot of smart people. She was good at figuring shit out. She was damn near MacGyver. She could solve just about any problem. And she was quick at learning things. She could hang around a day with someone and pick up enough of whatever skill they were good at to get by doing that skill. 

She was an absolute asset, especially in this world. She brought a little of everything to the table. She could cook, sew, and she knew enough about medical shit that she wasn’t afraid to get in there and get her hands bloody—whether that meant saving someone or doing away with them, as the situation might require. 

Leah was like a breath of fresh air to Daryl—she was a promise that there were good things in the world and that, maybe, he even deserved some of them. She was a firecracker, as Merle would have said, and she gave him hell, and he loved every minute of her teasing. She could make even his embarrassment feel good to him because it made her smile—and her smile? It was incredible.

She was…everything.

And Carol gripped the side of the seat next to her—a wooden piece fashioned by the person who had converted this vehicle into a wagon—until she felt the bite of a splinter in her palm, and she kept her hand pressing there so that the pain of the splinter was a distraction from the other pain her body. Physical pain, she’d long-since learned in life, was actually far preferable to emotional pain.

She swallowed, repeatedly, to fight back the growing desire in her gut to lean over and retch over the side of the wagon. Doing that wouldn’t seem very supportive, and she wanted to support Daryl however she could. He had supported her, after all, through everything—and she’d even gone so far as to marry Ezekiel.

Carol had never felt for Ezekiel, though, the way that she felt for Daryl. She’d never felt for anyone the way that she felt for Daryl, and she’d told him as much, repeatedly, since they’d begun to speak openly about their feelings for one another. Ezekiel had been a comfort. He’d been someone there when she was afraid of being alone. He’d been someone who held a hand out for her when she thought that Daryl never would—and he’d offered her a fairytale. She’d wanted a fairytale. 

Tobin had been nothing more than a distraction—something to do. Something to try to feel. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt anything with Tobin—not even very distracted. The greatest feeling she had surrounding Tobin was, honestly, guilt. And that guilt was because she had wasted his time and, in some ways, his feelings. 

Even Ed—Carol had loved Ed, when she’d first married him, but she hadn’t loved him like Daryl.

It seemed like there was something about Daryl that made her heart feel a certain way. Something about Daryl seemed to connect with something in her in a place that was deeper, even, than her heart.

Listening to him talk about Leah, though, Carol began to realize how hard it must have been for him to see her with Tobin and Ezekiel. She realized how much he must have recoiled at every kiss he’d witnessed, and even every smile—every thought that she was happy, no matter how shallow and forced that happiness may really be, without him.

In her mind’s eye, Carol could see Leah. 

She could see her beautiful hair cascading down her back—it was probably brown, since she imagined she’d be the beautiful girl-next-door variety instead of some blonde-vixen variety. She could see her beautiful blue eyes and the smile that Daryl said could just about stop his heart in his chest. She could imagine her laughing and teasing Daryl. Dog loved her, Daryl had said so himself, and Carol could imagine Leah, and Dog, and Daryl playing games in the woods as they took turns shooting at meat for food—food she would prepare in such delicious ways that thinking about it made Daryl’s stomach growl—and Carol could imagine her teasing Daryl about his aim being off and her arrow being the winning one to bring down their supper.

Carol’s stomach turned and twisted, almost violently, as she imagined Leah taking Daryl to bed. She imagined that she was young, and beautiful, and despite how life had taught her to be a survivor, she probably didn’t have the scars and imperfections that Carol had, and age probably hadn’t taken any kind of toll on her body. 

Since Daryl had told Carol that he loved her—something that seemed almost like something she had imagined, in light of his words about Leah—Carol had mentioned sealing their relationship…exploring the physical side of things. Daryl had shied away nervously, and had finally named the little secret house of his as the place where he wanted to do that. Carol had seen it as a marriage of sorts—a romantic moment between them, and something both of them could anticipate. She’d imagined that he might not be too experienced with women and, maybe, this would be something special to him that would also serve as a consummation of this relationship and their dedication to starting a new life together.

Now, Carol wondered if it was really because he was trying to decide if he was willing to trade Leah’s beautiful young body for—what Carol had to offer.

Carol and Daryl could daydream about a new life. They could talk about things like farming, domesticating animals for a ranch, hunting and feeding themselves, living off the land, and starting a whole new life. They could daydream and imagine what it might be like if they could, somehow, really have a whole life together—the entire fairytale, except this would be their own precious reality. 

But Leah? She could give that to Daryl. She could give him the whole life. She was, clearly, capable of being his helpmate in building whatever he wanted to build and, unlike Carol—who could daydream that, somehow, and through some miracle, God might see fit to give them things she didn’t dare to whisper about aloud for how ridiculous they might sound—Leah could probably give Daryl a family of his own without the need to pray for miracles.

Carol felt practically numb as they rode and, though she pretended to listen, she’d begun to block out Daryl’s words. She’d begun to simply lose herself in the swimming thoughts that whirled around her mind. 

She’d started to feel a little dizzy as she’d heard him indicate—with some of the few words still getting through to her—that they were almost there.

And when the house had come into view from the long and winding driveway they’d turned onto, and Daryl had started to slow the horses so that he could open the gate of the fence surrounding the house, which opened to the overgrown driveway, Carol had practically felt dizzy enough to fall off her seat.

When the gate was open, Daryl climbed back onto the wagon. He was silent now. Carol thought he even looked a little uncomfortable or nervous, himself.

Maybe, in light of everything he’d said about Leah, he’d come to realize this was a mistake—he’d changed his mind. And, really, Carol couldn’t blame him. How could she ask him to leave behind someone who was so incredible, and someone who clearly meant so much to him? 

She wasn’t sure she could go on with him, not knowing what she knew now. 

That’s why her knees were shaking when she stood up. That’s why her whole body was shaking when she took his hand. That’s why she faltered when she tried to step down off the wagon.

And then, suddenly, she found herself where she’d found herself so many times before—even if it had only been figuratively. She found herself wrapped, safely, in Daryl’s embrace. He’d saved her from falling, and he rested her gently on her feet. His hands didn’t leave her until he was sure that she was standing on her own again.

He looked at her with concern heavily coating his facial features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “You OK?” 

“No,” Carol said, shaking her head. “I’m not.”


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Here we are. This is part 3 of 4.

I hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to let me know what you think! (Remember, all your friendly neighborhood fic authors thrive on love and comments. LOL)

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Daryl’s heart was thundering in his chest. It was loud enough that it intensified the sound of his breathing and the blood rushing past his ears. It made him feel, for a moment, like he could hear each individual part of his body as it functioned—even down to a cell or something doing whatever it was that a cell had to do to keep him alive.

Carol didn’t look well. She looked pale, and she was clearly shaky. 

And, suddenly, Daryl felt panicky. What if there was something seriously wrong with her that had just popped up and he didn’t know how to fix it? He’d stockpiled some medical books—mostly books dealing with folk cures to common ailments—but that didn’t mean that he’d read any of them yet. He’d simply snagged them, when he’d come across them, in hopes that they might offer them some help when they were out there on their own with nobody to ask about such things.

Now, though, Daryl’s brain—sometimes given to overreacting when it came to Carol— was crying out that he didn’t know what to do and, if something was really wrong, he could risk losing the one thing that had been the most important to him in his whole life, and just at the moment when their new start was right in front of them.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked, his hands searching out her face like he might read the cause of her distress there. “Hey—tell me what’s wrong…”

Carol caught his hands in hers.

“I think—I need to go, Daryl,” Carol said. 

“Go? Where the hell you goin’?” Daryl asked. 

“I need to leave…”

“We’re leavin’ in the morning,” Daryl said, his stomach knotting over Carol’s pleading tone of voice. Whenever she sounded like that—with just that touch of desperation—she sometimes did things that were a little wild and a little unpredictable. Daryl didn’t want to have to barricade her in the house, but if that’s what he had to do to keep her from running in the middle of the night, that might be what he had to do. He’d nail the damned door shut—and all the windows, too—if that’s what it took.

He’d rather just solve the problem, though.

“I need to leave now,” Carol said. “Before she gets here. She shouldn’t see me here, Daryl. I can’t be here when she comes. You deserve—everything—Daryl. And I…I couldn’t live with myself if I took that from you. I need to leave before she comes.” 

“Who?” Daryl asked. He gripped the upper part of Carol’s arms. He felt her tugging against him. He felt her poised to run—literally or figuratively, he wasn’t actually sure. She really meant to leave, and he really meant to keep her from doing just that. He hated, though, that he might be holding her too hard. Still, he couldn’t let go. He didn’t dare.

She furrowed her brow at him and shook her head.

“Leah,” she said. “Daryl—you love her. And I can’t—I won’t—stand in the way of that.” 

“Leah?” 

“I’ve never heard you so…happy,” Carol said. Tears rolled out of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Daryl dared only to move his left hand from holding her long enough to wipe them away. “I love you—and I want to be with you, but…more than that? I want you to be happy, Daryl. I want you to have all that…everything you want.” 

Daryl’s stomach felt absolutely sick as realization sunk in around him. Everything inside him sunk. He felt unbearably heavy.

Sometimes feelings made him do things that he didn’t mean to do. Sometimes they ran away with him. This time, he worried, they might have gone too far. He might’ve gone too far.

“Leah?” He repeated.

Carol smiled at him. It was a smile through tears, and she tipped her head to the side. 

“You love her,” Carol said. 

“No,” Daryl said, shaking his head.

“You do,” Carol said, nodding her head. “I know that—maybe you don’t know that’s what it is, but…you love her.” 

“I know what the hell love is, Carol,” Daryl said, his voice coming out unnecessarily harsh, perhaps. He felt angry with himself, and he felt very afraid of what he’d done. He felt very afraid that he’d broken something he couldn’t fix. He kept the fingers of his right hand curled tightly around Carol’s arm—maybe harder than before, surely too hard—because he feared letting go. He feared her slipping away. He feared that if he released even the slightest bit of pressure, she might just vanish.

And he couldn’t survive that—not again, and certainly not forever.

She didn’t complain about the pain he may very well be inflicting on her.

“Then, you know you love her,” Carol said. “And you have to tell her.” 

“I can’t,” Daryl said, laughing nervously. He didn’t feel it. He felt no laughter at all. His brain, though, had offered him the rumbling reaction to the overwhelming situation. 

“You have to.”

“I can’t fuckin’ tell her shit, Carol! She ain’t real!” Daryl barked the words loudly. He was much louder than he meant to be. Carol winced at the unexpected noise, Dog yipped in response, and Cinnamon shook her head and jingled the metal of her harness. “She ain’t real,” Daryl repeated, this time lowering the volume of his voice.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Carol asked, her face screwing up in confusion. “You just told me how—wonderful—Leah is…”

Daryl laughed to himself, this time meaning the emotion a little more.

“Shit…you gotta promise not to fuckin’ hate me,” Daryl said. “Whatever—you owe me in not hatin’ me? You gotta promise…I can cash in on it now.”

“I could never hate you,” Carol said, echoing back to Daryl words that he’d once said to her for a very different reason. 

Of course, he wasn’t innocent. He hadn’t exactly meant to do this, and he hadn’t originally set out to do it, but he realized he’d very realistically fucked with her feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl said, feeling like he ought to lead with that. “Shit—I’m so fuckin’ sorry. And I didn’t mean it, but…shit…but—Leah—ain’t real.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I made her up,” Daryl said. “I mean—the name is real, I met a woman named Leah when I was buyin’ the horses, but she was married to their blacksmith…and I didn’t even hardly talk to her. Just remembered the name. And it sure as shit weren’t like that. I just…the whole thing? I made her up, and I’m fuckin’ sorry.” 

“You made her up?” 

“I lied,” Daryl said. “But—it was just a lil’ white lie, Carol. I just…I was feelin’ pissed about Ezekiel. Hurt. I wanted you to feel what I feel when I think about him—bein’ your husband and all.”

“You felt…jealous?” Carol asked. Daryl’s stomach responded clearly to that, but he kept it to himself. “And you wanted to make me jealous? So…you made up this whole perfect person?” 

Daryl smiled to himself. He knew it was out of place, at that moment, and if he hadn’t known it, Carol’s expression would have made it clear for him. Still, he couldn’t help it, even though he quickly swallowed it down.

“And you think it’s funny?” Carol added. Her tears were gone now. She was mad. Daryl didn’t let up on holding onto her, though. Mad, or sad, or even a little crazy, he wasn’t going to risk her getting away from him. She’d have to chew his arm off to get away from him and leave him.

“Yes and no,” Daryl said. “To all of it. If you let me explain…”

“That’s what the hell I’m waiting on!” Carol snapped. 

He swallowed back the desire to tell her that she was, oddly enough, very beautiful when she was mad—even if he wished she wasn’t mad.

“I was jealous. I’m always jealous of any damn body that gets near you but…you married him.” 

“And I left him,” Carol said. 

Daryl nodded.

“You did, but…”

“But you still get jealous,” Carol said, her expression softening just a touch. Daryl nodded.

“You made a whole perfect person up to…convince me you were in love with someone else?” Carol asked.

“No,” Daryl said. “I mean—Leah, yeah, she ain’t real. I didn’t make her up to convince you I was in love with someone else, though. I mean, not exactly. That’s not—it weren’t what I meant to do. Shit—I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to make you feel…like I feel, I guess. But—she ain’t real…but she is.” 

Carol just looked at him with a furrowed brow and shook her head. She had no words. That much was clear, and Daryl didn’t really blame her for not having anything to say or for not knowing what to say. After all, he’d kind of fucked this up all the way around.

He wet his lips, surprised to find that his mouth wasn’t actually as dry as it felt to him.

“Leah ain’t real,” Daryl said. “But—every damn thing I said about her? That shit was real, Carol.” He laughed to himself at her expression. “Every damn thing I said about Leah was just—what the hell I think about when I think about you. So—you see what the hell I meant. I know what love is, Carol.” 

“But Leah’s not real?” Carol asked still digesting everything. “And—you don’t love her?” 

“How the hell could I?” Daryl asked. “I’ve never loved anybody but you. Fuck—that’s the damn reason I had to use what I think about you to lie about her. I’m so fucked up that I couldn’t even make up another damn woman to love.” 

Carol’s bottom lip rolled out slightly and she frowned as she clearly eased closer to crying again.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. 

“I know,” Daryl said, not fighting her on this one. “I deserve that. I deserve worse. And—I’m sorry. Shit…I didn’t mean it. I swear it. Just I got jealous and…it just sorta happened.”

She was fighting against crying and Daryl mopped at her face with his free hand, the right still holding onto her. He was already brushing her cheek with his thumb like he could get ahead of the tears. 

“I really thought—you’d be better off with her,” Carol said. 

“Nothin’ I want more’n you,” Daryl said. 

“I thought you loved her,” Carol said. 

“I do love the woman I was describing,” he offered. “It’s just—she happened to be you.” 

“I thought that might be why you…never…”

“Never?” 

“You kept saying you wanted to wait. I thought it might be because…you weren’t sure. About me.” 

Daryl’s stomach flipped, this time, in a whole new way. 

“I guess you gonna find out the truth about that soon enough, too,” Daryl said. 

“More lies?” Carol asked.

Daryl winced.

“I never meant to lie,” he said. “Not about any of it. Not a damn bit of it was intentional. But—you’re the first woman I loved, Carol. Only one. If you—know what I mean. I guess—I was scared to tell you that. Scared it would make you change your mind, especially before we were totally committed to doin’ this.” He raised his eyebrows at her, his stomach gnawing at him in concern. “Did you change your mind?” 

Carol stared at him a long moment. She shook her head. 

“I could never change my mind on you,” she said. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you were ready to cut me loose,” Daryl said.

“Because I’d do anything to—make you happy,” Carol said. “But I think—you owe it to me to…let me make some decisions. For us.” 

“Whatever you want,” Daryl ceded quickly. 

“I don’t want to wait anymore, Daryl.”

“You mean—to…?” His stomach was practically turning itself inside out. Carol nodded. 

“Get the horses settled, but…everything else can wait.”

“Last damn thing I want in the world is to—disappoint you.”

“Don’t worry,” Carol assured him. You can’t.”

Daryl wasn’t sure he believed her, but he nodded his understanding and acceptance of what she said.

“Then—I’ma get the horses set,” Daryl said.

“And I’m going to go inside and…get ready,” Carol said. 

“OK,” Daryl said.

“Daryl…”

“Hmmm?” 

“You’re—hurting my arm.” 

Daryl pulled his hand back quickly and then he returned it to rub it soothingly over her arm where he’d been holding her and squeezing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It’s fine,” she reassured him. She offered him a smile. It was the good kind of smile. The teasing kind that made his stomach untangle itself a little. “You’re sure I’m not—I’m not going to find some other woman hiding in there?” 

“Only one woman for me,” Daryl said, smiling in return. “And it ain’t Leah, before you ask.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Good, because—I don’t like to share, Daryl.” 

“Me neither,” Daryl said. “Merle would’ve told you that I weren’t never any good at it, even as a kid.”

“And I won’t share you with another woman.” 

Daryl smiled at her.

“Ditto,” he said. “I mean—on the not sharing. But—you don’t have to worry. I don’t want no other woman. I got everything I want and, if we’re bein’ honest? Prob’ly way on more’n I can handle. I don’t love nobody but you.”

“You’re sure you’re not just—fibbing again?” 

“Truest damn thing I’ve said all day,” Daryl assured her. He accepted the quick kiss she gave him—the promise of something more to come—and he watched her head into the house. With a mixture of nervousness and excitement that made his knees feel like jelly, Daryl set about unharnessing the horses to get them ready for the night.

He hoped that, by the time they were settled, he would find that he was ready for the night, too.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Here we are, the fourth and final piece to this story.

If you need it, there’s a bit of a smut/sexual content warning here.

I hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

It was still light enough outside that they didn’t need lamps to see their way around the space, but Carol had lit one in the master bedroom of the house, and she’d placed it by the bed.

Daryl found her there, after he’d gotten the horses settled for the night, checked the fences, and brought in two buckets of water from the well. He imagined that they would have plenty of time for the things they needed to do before they absolutely had to go to bed, but he thought he’d at least have a few things ready for them. He’d been there only a day before, and he’d already prepared much of the house in anticipation of their arrival. 

Carol had gone inside to “get ready” and, as Daryl walked over to the bowl on the dresser to wash his hands and face, he realized that she’d likely had the same idea. 

She’d changed into a nightshirt that was, really, nothing more than an oversized button-down shirt. It was white, and the sight of her standing there—with bare feet and legs, and with her hair hanging down her back—immediately aroused Daryl. He found her attractive enough that, even in the most inappropriate moments, his body could respond to her presence and appearance. Now, dressed as she was and knowing what she expected to happen between them, Daryl hardly stood a chance at all.

Maybe she knew that. Maybe she could sense it. 

She gave him a smile—warm and reassuring—before she closed the distance between them. Daryl closed his eyes when she took his face in her hands, and he savored the kiss she offered.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol had never been a man, of course, and she lacked some of the practical knowledge of manhood, but she did know that Daryl simply wasn’t likely to last—not very long, not for a few times, and certainly not for this first time.

As she kissed him, she varied the kisses to keep him entertained. She teased him and toyed with him. He chased after her kisses when she started to pull away. He pulled her to him. She held his arm with her left hand, keeping constant contact with him, and with her right hand, she found the band of his jeans. He started to pull away from her and to raise a protest, but she broke the kiss only long enough to shush him.

“Shhh…Trust me.” 

He did trust her, and she undid his pants enough to get a hand into them. She wrapped her fingers around him, and she broke the kiss only a half a second to smile to herself when—probably very much without meaning to—he rolled his hips to thrust hard at her. 

“Let me this time,” she said. “You just—enjoy and let me.”

Daryl made some sound like he might protest, and Carol could imagine that he would complain that this wasn’t what he thought the first time would be like. Carol knew, though, this was all the first time that he could really handle. He was extremely sensitive, and he probably wouldn’t have made it through watching her slide her panties off. She’d barely stroked him even twice before he came hard, and Carol milked him, shushing him and kissing him, until she was sure that he was as thoroughly finished as he could be for the time being.

She walked over to wash her hands in some of their water. She dumped the dirty water into their discard bucket before she poured some clean water into the bowl and took up the rag.

“Come on,” she said. “Come here, Daryl.” 

He stood, frowning, looking every bit like a punished child—or like a child who expected to be punished. He looked so entirely betrayed and heartbroken, at that exact moment, that Carol’s chest ached and she felt sorrier for him than she had for herself when she’d believed that he’d been in love with someone else. At least, when she’d erroneously believed he had another love, he’d been happy. 

“Come here, please,” Carol said softly.

Daryl shuffled his feet as he came over.

“That weren’t right at all,” Daryl said. “The hell’d you get outta that? And now it’s just fuckin’ over.”

Carol smiled to herself.

“How long do you usually take to recover?” Carol asked. Daryl shrugged his shoulders. There was a darkness to his eyes—just around the edges. Carol knew that his feelings were hurt, or his ego was, and he could go one of two ways here. She knew the way she wanted to steer him. So, she finished unzipping his pants and, taking the rag and the cool water and soap, she washed him. “You won’t take long,” she assured him. “And this just leaves us a little more time for foreplay before next time. If you’re a fan of it—I do like foreplay, though…if you don’t mind it…” 

“You mean you wanna—do it again? After that?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I thought we’d be doing it a lot,” Carol said. She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked as she stopped her work. “Unless—there’s someone else you’d rather be doing it with?” 

“Stop,” Daryl said, a hint of warning behind his voice. He liked for her to tease him—he’d admitted as much on the wagon, though she’d thought he’d been talking of some mystery woman—but even he had his limits, and there were some things about which he simply didn’t like to be teased.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “But—you did hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Daryl protested. Carol knew that he was telling the truth, and she wasn’t mad, but there was still some residual ache in her chest when she thought about how she’d felt in those moments when she’d believed, on the ride, that he’d also been telling the truth.

“I forgive you,” she assured him. “Well?” She held her arms out. “Do you have something you want to do or…are we just seeing where we end up?”

Daryl seemed to understand what she was talking about. He stared at her, nodded his head gently, and then came to kiss her. She caught his pants, aware they were still unbuttoned, and held them up as she tugged him, still kissing him, toward the bed in the little house. He followed her, hungrily trying to get more from the kisses, until she bumped into the bed and nearly toppled back onto it. 

The kiss broke and Carol saw the unmistakable fire burning in Daryl’s eyes. One thing she’d always loved about him was that there had always been something in him that seemed, in the best way possible, just a touch feral. There was something about him that was dangerous. Danger, Carol knew, should frighten her as a woman with her past experiences, but Daryl’s danger didn’t frighten her. She felt entirely safe with him, which made her absolutely safe to enjoy every bit of the danger that Daryl’s slightly feral nature offered.

He wanted her, and she could feel it. She could feel the want—the need—radiating off of him. She had wanted him for so long, and her body burned, now, to feel the same desire coming from him.

Her body was preparing for him, even as his fingers came to slowly and clumsily the shirt she’d chosen as a nightgown, with a few spat curses here and there breaking the silence and giving voice to Daryl’s frustrations with his own lack of coordination at the moment. There was a throbbing ache of anticipation between her legs as she helped him out of his own clothes. She wondered, though she didn’t break the moment with questions, if he could feel her desire. Surely, she thought, he must have been able to, since it hung heavy in the air around them.

His teeth scratched her skin, and his tongue licked the stinging spots like he was cleaning them. She thought he might consume her—biting at the skin of her neck, shoulders, and collarbone as he freed her from the shirt. Then, he moved down to her breasts and she flexed her fingers and scratched his back, seeking something to hold onto. He growled in appreciation, and she let her hands go down to find his ass and squeeze—dropping his pants the rest of the way to the floor as she freed them from his hips. She stopped squeezing long enough to slide his underwear down to join the pants.

He backed off long enough to hastily free his feet from his boots and his legs from his discarded pants. He was normally shy, but there was something much more driving than modesty at the moment, and he didn’t seem to mind her admiring him—because she was admiring him. 

And she finished getting rid of her shirt for him and, against everything she would have normally felt driven to do, she displayed herself for him to admire—because he was admiring her, too. 

Daryl toppled her onto the bed—he practically threw her. She laughed to herself. It was more a squeal of pleasure and anticipation. She was distinctly at risk of being consumed—that’s how she felt for just a moment—and it was everything she’d never known she wanted. He nipped at her skin, his tongue always lapping back over the spots as though to clean any wound left behind—proof that as much as he wanted to consume, he wanted to care for her. 

By the time she was helping him get her underwear off, the cotton was soaked, and Carol took only a half a second to marvel at the thought that, honestly, she could never recall having been so wet in her entire life, before Daryl began lapping at her desperately.

He hadn’t lied. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he had enthusiasm enough for ten men, and Carol helped him find what he was looking for—what he didn’t even know he was looking for. She’d never imagined pointing her clit out to someone before, and it was momentarily embarrassing, but she got over the heat of embarrassment when Daryl latched onto her and transferred every bit of enthusiasm that he’d shown so far into learning what she might like as he explored her.

He stayed there long enough that he recovered and lost control of himself again. He was practically inconsolable for a moment, but Carol assured him it was fine, and she coaxed him to spend a little more time exploring and playing—happy to have her body be his new, favorite plaything. 

She hadn’t hidden even one bit of her pleasure, and Daryl had delighted in her orgasms as much as she’d ever seen him pleased by anything before.

His recovery time the second time was, surprisingly and against everything Carol had imagined, faster than it had been the first. He was, it seemed, quite aroused by her orgasms. As soon as he was hard, he’d covered Carol’s mouth with his own and she’d felt him begging entrance into her body. She wrapped her legs around him and coaxed him inside her. There would be time for coaching, and plenty of time for learning. For now, Daryl had been more than generous with his attentions to Carol’s body, and she felt like he deserved what it was clear that he desperately wanted and had likely been thinking about for some time.

The look of absolute ecstasy on Daryl’s features when he was fully inside her nearly pushed Carol into another orgasm of her own. She had never imagined that anyone would look that way at simply the feeling of being welcomed to make love to her, but Daryl looked like it was better than anything that he could ever imagine.

Carol was better than anything he could imagine.

The thought made Carol smile, even in that moment, and she worked her hips to meet Daryl’s somewhat clumsy thrusts and to help him get every bit of pleasure out of this that was possible. When he came, Carol pulled him close to her and held him, kissing him, sensing that he might enjoy such a thing. He responded enthusiastically, and she closed her eyes to simply enjoy their bodies pressed together in the afterglow.

In the first moments of panting breath and hot, wet kisses, there were quiet words of love, encouragement, and approval whispered between them—the kind of words that belonged to such a moment as it was shared between them for the first time of many times to come—or at least Carol hoped so. 

Finally, as breathing returned to normal and Daryl started to look a little sleepy, Carol kissed the corner of his mouth and turned his face to make sure that he was looking at her. She gave him a smile, but she put just enough behind her tone to let him know that, though she was teasing, she still wanted him to hold onto the truth behind the teasing. 

“Don’t lie to me anymore,” Carol said.

“Not even little white lies?” Daryl teased back. “Hear me out. You tellin’ me you can commit to—tellin’ me the absolute truth about every damn thing for the rest of our lives?” 

Carol laughed to herself. There were, she could admit to herself, some small lies—even lies of omission—that seemed absolutely necessary to life. She wasn’t even sure, in all honesty, that she could stop telling herself every single possible lie.

“Maybe little white lies,” she ceded. “But—no more little green lies, Daryl. There’s no room for jealousy in our bed, wherever that might end up being.”

“You got a deal,” Daryl said. He turned her head and pressed his lips to her forehead with such affection that Carol shivered pleasantly from the touch. “No more jealousy because—ain’t no damn body gettin’ between our asses.” 

“Real or imaginary,” Carol agreed with a laugh.


End file.
